


Reason in Madness

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Welcome to the Madness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: "Yuri is only fifteen, but Lilia can already see the danger that's gathering around him, the jackals that are licking their chops and beckoning. Men, women, alcohol, drugs. Scandals that lose sponsors, mistakes that ruin lives. There's a world of tempting trouble out there, and it's up to them to keep Yuri out of it, just as they did for Victor."





	

**Author's Note:**

> "There's always some madness in love, but there is also always some reason in madness." Nietzche

Yakov, of course, is furious. 

He starts vibrating the moment the lights go down and Yuri skates on wearing sunglasses. By the time Yuri's throwing off his jacket and arching obscenely on the ice, Yakov seems so close to another heart attack that Lilia breaks her self-imposed “no touching” rule and places a hand on her ex-husband's elbow, just to keep him alive. 

“I'm going to fucking strangle him,” Yakov says, as Yuri and the other boy, the Kazakh, take their bows. They've brought the house down. Apart from Yakov, the audience is going wild, in a positive way. They scream, cheer, and applaud with higher enthusiasm than they did for Yuri's free skate, although that was much more technically and artistically proficient. 

“No,” Lilia tells him. “You're not.” 

“Lilia...”

“He's just like Victor. If he thinks he can be wild and daring on the ice, he won't feel like he has to be wild and daring off it.” 

Yuri is only fifteen, but Lilia can already see the danger that's gathering around him, the jackals that are licking their chops and beckoning. Men, women, alcohol, drugs. Scandals that lose sponsors, mistakes that ruin lives. There's a world of tempting trouble out there, and it's up to them to keep Yuri out of it, just as they did for Victor.

“Look what happened to Victor,” Yakov complains. 

“Victor was twenty-seven.” All birds leave the nest eventually. “And he left to become a coach.” And to get himself engaged to a sweet Japanese boy with a good family and a good _arabesque de scene._ It could have been much worse. It would have been, if not for Lilia and Yakov.

Yakov keeps grumbling, but he stays where he is, turning ostentatiously away from Yuri as Yuri comes, sweaty and grinning, off the ice. It's Lilia who follows Yuri along the concourse and down the stairs. 

“You're not supposed to be in here,” Yuri says, as she steps into the men's dressing room behind him. 

“When has that ever stopped me?” 

Yuri looks at her. There's a defiant tilt to his chin, a look in his overly made-up eyes that challenges her—that begs her—to be offended by his spectacle. In a way, she is. “The footwork in the second minute was terrible,” Lilia snaps. “I've seen better from a novice.” 

“I know,” Yuri admits.

“If you want to perform this program at another competition, we'll make time to work on it. You won't embarrass yourself like that again. Not while I'm around.” 

Yuri chews his lip and Lilia is reminded, again, just how young he really is. He looks up at her, then down at the floor, then back, this time holding her gaze even as his fingers worry the hem of that dreadful shirt. “You're not...I mean, did you think...” 

Lilia puts him out of his misery. “I'm an artist, Yuri, like you. I am only offended by poor execution. But I would avoid Yakov for the time being. He's not quite so open-minded.” 

That's all Yuri wanted to hear. He puffs up, clearly thrilled at his own outrageousness, and Lilia leaves him to change into something resembling decent clothing. 

On her way back down the hallway, she passes the Kazakh boy. He seems to be trying to hide, staying close to the concrete wall as if that might camouflage him. She calls, “Mr. Altin!” 

The boy has manners, at least. He stops walking and lowers his eyes respectfully. “Madame Baranovskaya.” 

“If you're planning to lead Yuri astray, please believe me when I say you will not live to regret it.” 

She doesn't need to clarify the threat. Altin nods repeatedly, so quickly it makes him look like his head is about to pop off, then switches to shaking it. “Yes, ma'am. I mean, no, ma'am. I would never do anything like that.”

“Congratulations on your free skate,” she replies, confident the message has been received. 

When she returns to Yakov, his face is still contorted into a gargoyle's grimace. She hesitates, then slips her arm beneath his. “Everything has been dealt with,” she assures him. “We have nothing to worry about. For now.” 

“Hm.” Yakov grunts, but then says, “Thank you.” 

Lilia nods. Not for the first time, she wonders what might have happened, how their lives might have been different, if Yakov's coaches or her ballet mistresses had been more like Yakov and Lilia. But in those days, of course, there were no options, no outlets for expression. Yakov skated what he was told to skate, just as Lilia danced what she was told to dance. Their youthful urges—and Lilia is certain Yuri and Victor would be astonished to learn they once had them—were bottled up, contained and suppressed until they had no choice but to burst free in later life. For Yakov, that had come in the form of a string of public affairs that broke up their marriage. For Lilia...well, all Lilia can do is try to ensure her beloved boys, her surrogate sons, don't suffer the way she did. 

As Victor steps onto the rink, his fiancé at his side, Yakov places one gloved hand over Lilia's. For a brief moment, a fraction of an instant, Lilia leans to rest her head on his shoulder. Then she straightens up and casts a judgmental eye on Victor's posture and Yuuri Katsuki's arm positions, mentally readying a list of critiques she can offer when they come off the ice.


End file.
